


Save Me From Me

by orphan_account



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: M/M, but not really, kinda dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He did deserve it, he knew that. He let her die. It was his fault. And he knew he would let this other him do as he pleased, because there was no “other” him, just him (and really he had known all along, known it was him, of course it was him, because no one hated Shintaro as much as he hated himself).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me From Me

**Author's Note:**

> yaaaay shincest umm I have no idea what's actually happening here sorry
> 
> cross posted from my tumblr narcissistic-sassafras

Shintaro dreamed of pain. Sharp, piercing pain buried in his throat, closing off his windpipe and choking off his screams at the source. It hurt and he just wanted it to end already, but it wouldn’t, not yet, because this was only a dream, and you didn’t die in dreams. His other self (it wore his face and had his voice, but its eyes were wrong, expressionless and dead) was smirking down at him, twisting the red scissors this way and that, deepening and widening the hole in his neck.

“What’s the matter, Shintaro? We’ve barely even started, and you’re already wishing it would end? How pathetic.” His dream self (was this a dream? was he asleep? he didn‘t remember falling asleep. but what else could this be?) forced the scissors open, cutting through Shintaro’s flesh and making a line of red across his throat (red like her scarf, red like the clips in her hair, red like her blood when she hit the ground), laughing as Shintaro attempted to scream, only to choke on his own blood. 

As Shintaro’s struggling gradually began to weaken, the other him seemed to grow bored; he removed the scissors from his throat and leaned back, studying the crimson liquid dripping from his hands. “You’re even more pathetic than I thought. Giving up already? You just want to die, right? You don’t deserve death. Death is too kind for you. Pain is all you deserve.” On the word pain he stabbed Shintaro’s stomach and dragged the makeshift weapon up his torso, connecting this new cut with the slash in his throat. Shintaro could feel the blood welling up in his esophagus as he tried to scream, his body writhing involuntarily as if trying to run away. His double laughed again, then stuck his fingers in the stab wound on his stomach and began to force it apart, digging in with his fingernails and ripping apart the flesh and muscle until he reached the organs underneath. 

“Since you’re so intent on dying, you won’t be needing these anymore, right?” The other Shintaro pushed his hands inside the now gaping wound, grabbing hold of whatever he found first and pulling hard, until he was lifting out Shintaro’s innards one by one, his expression growing increasingly deranged as the other choked and spluttered on the blood in his throat as he tried desperately to scream.

And suddenly he _was_ screaming, screaming with all his might as he found the strength to sit up, but his other self was nowhere to be found. He realized with a start that the slash in his throat was gone, and his organs were back safely inside him, and he breathed a sigh of relief (it was a dream after all, and you can’t die in dreams). He swung his legs over the side of his bed, doing his best to push the nightmare to the back of his mind as he got up to get on with his day. 

The rest of the day was uneventful (he never saw Ene, but that wasn’t too unusual, she was probably with Momo) and he had nearly forgotten the dream by the time he laid down again at three o’clock in the morning. But he hadn’t even closed his eyes when the other him (was it him? its eyes were wrong, dark and blank, it made him sick) suddenly materialized on top of him, wearing the same crazed expression he had seen on him last. 

“Did you really think we were finished, Shintaro?” he quipped in a sing song voice, twirling the red scissors around his finger. “Didn’t I say we’ve only just started? You think I’m going to forgive you just like that?”

“Who… Who are you?” Without the gash in his throat, Shintaro could actually talk. Could figure what this… thing was and what it wanted from him.

The double seemed surprised. “Whatever do you mean? I’m you, right? We are one and the same. That’s why I’m doing this! Because I know I deserve it, don’t I?”

“…” Shintaro couldn’t find the words to formulate an argument. (Was that really him? Were those his eyes? When was the last time he had actually looked at himself?) He did deserve it, he knew that. He let her die. It was his fault. And he knew he would let this other him do as he pleased, because there was no “other” him, just him (and really he had known all along, known it was him, of course it was him, because no one hated Shintaro as much as he hated himself). 

“You seem pretty resigned. Accepting your fate so soon?” His doppelganger looked almost bored as he tossed the scissors aside, wrapping his hands around Shintaro’s throat and giving a slight squeeze. “Let’s try something different this time.” Shintaro’s eyes widened as the hands around his throat squeezed harder, clamping down on his airway and cutting off his air supply. It hurt, but it also felt… good. It took him a while to register that the strange tingling sensation was his blood flowing south.

The other noticed, of course. “Oh, does this turn you on? Disgusting. You’re disgusting. But you already knew that, hmm?” He removed one of his hands and dragged it down across Shintaro’s body, stopping to palm his hardening dick. Shintaro groaned, or tried to around the hand crushing his windpipe, and jerked his hips upward. “Like that…?” The double seemed slightly unsure, but he pressed on, slipping his free hand underneath Shintaro’s pants and wrapping a hand around his cock while simultaneously tightening his grip around the other’s throat. Shintaro’s hips bucked up, seeking friction, and he obliged, slowly starting to pump, picking up the pace as Shintaro leaked enough pre-cum to serve as a lubricant. 

Shintaro could feel himself drawing closer, until he finally came into the other’s hand with a stifled moan. His dream self removed his hand from Shintaro’s pants, wiping it off on the sheets before bringing it to join the other, squeezing down even harder, until Shintaro’s could hear his bones creak and feel them start to snap. The crazed expression from earlier returned as the double pressed even harder, and the bones in Shintaro’s neck gave way with a sickening crunch, and all Shintaro could feel was pain, burning hot, stinging pain radiating from his mangled bones, and no matter how hard he tried to scream nothing would come out-

And then it was coming out, and he was sitting up on his bed again, panting hard and rubbing furiously at his neck (it was dream, of course it was a dream). Once again he swung his legs over the side of his bed, preparing to go about the rest of the day. But something seemed different. He looked back at the sheets and noticed the stain from where the other him had wiped his come off, then noticed the pair of bright red scissors lying beside it. 

“Oh, Shintaro,” a voice cooed from beside him. “What makes you think you ever woke up?”

He spun around, eyes widening as he came face to face with himself. The doppelganger grinned upon seeing the fear in Shintaro’s face. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be fine. After all, you can’t die in dreams.”


End file.
